Bah Bah Black Sheep
by CyndarDragon
Summary: No one expected Altair to get killed, but no one also expected his spirit to linger. Malik and a fellow novice must try to free Altair from Earth, but with all three of their souls getting thrown back and forth from a hellish dimension, sanity is a worry.
1. Death of a Comrade

**Um, yeah, I don't own Assassin's Creed, Ubisoft does. So I make no claims, but I write this down just in case. And I don't wanna keep on writing it down on every single chapter, so this disclaimer goes for the entire story! :3**

* * *

Left, left, right. Right step, duck, left step, duck, jump, dodge, and swing.

Right step, backwards three paces, left step, jump around for two paces.

Swing your sword _up_ in this situation, not down. Never down. If it gets knocked out of place, don't give up.

Swing it again, like a batter playing baseball, or a student playing softball, but never let it swing out of hand. It's your lifeline, you need it to live, to breathe, to exist, to be.

The breath was knocked out of him as the Templar knocked him off of his balance. Onto the ground he went with a loud thud, thus resulting in the air being knocked out of his chest. He rolled to the right to avoid being sliced with by a sword and scrambled to his feet. The dust was flying crazily up in the air as the two fought each other.

When you're down, you always get back up on your feet. Never wait, because when you wait you'll find it hard to get that first foot up. Always get up immediately. Never stay down.

Altair briskly turned around. His robes were cut into terrible shreds, his body was aching with the strain forced upon it, there was blood staining his once-cleaned skin, and he was shaking horribly from the blood loss. Why oh why is this Templar stronger than the others? Why can this one remain standing, even after brutal fighting that's been lasting for an eternity, of which in reality was only ten minutes?

Jerusalem had been relatively quiet. One wrong step was Altair took, and he was thrown into a fight. A simple fight, he once thought; he had taken down dozens of Templars before. But this one must have been different, must have been stronger, must have been less cocky and haughty. Arrogance must have been replaced with stubbornness and persistence.

Those traits were a plight for the assassin, but not to the Templar. Altair was cornered in a secluded alleyway, now quite literally fighting for his life. His lungs were burning as they sucked down the much-needed air. With the thought of burning in his mind, he could no longer ignore the pain that was being inflicted on his body. His muscles were already working at their full capacity but he needed more power, and the result was him weakening and his opponent becoming stronger and stronger.

He needed an escape. He needed to flee; he couldn't win this one. He needed to evacuate and get back to the bureau and seek out help. The bleeding was bad and it needed to be stopped.

Standing firmly on the ground with his sword out in front of him, he looked at the Templar, whom was taking a break of his own, mirroring the assassin's position in case he intended to attack or try to catch him off guard in some matter. Then, to Altair's vision, The Templar started to go out of focus. His sight was beginning to blur and, much to his fright, he was feeling dizzy. He needed to end this now; if he waited any longer, then he'd be the one to find himself six feet beneath the soil of the ground.

He lunged himself at the gradually tiring Templar. He swung his sword vigorously, using whatever last bit of strength was left in him.

He gave the Templar an uppercut and swung his sword again, but the man blocked the attack with a metal bracer on his arm. He deflected again and again to save himself from the assassin's blows, and he soon found that he was being pushed back farther and farther. Part of him had become relieved that the assassin was suddenly twice as strong; it meant that he was becoming desperate and that he'd just simply burn out of energy in any second. Once he started weakening again, he would know that his enemy was dying and was only throwing out those last frantic attempts to survive.

The Templar grabbed a knife from his belt while blocking the assassin's blows. He threw his sword aside and started attacking the white-robed man and, after a few moments, felt the blade of his knife back contact with the assassin somewhere, sliding in between the flesh and hopefully an artery or vein, maybe an organ.

Altair's sword found itself flying through the Templar, but at the same time, he felt a sharp pain in his abdomen. He and the Templar were close together, and both of them could see the surprised expression on each other's faces. The Templar's eyes were wide; Altair had stabbed him through the chest. Altair's visage was just of surprise, nothing else. He had made a wrong step and allowed the Templar to stab him.

The Templar fell first to his knees, then onto his side. The corpse had blood pooling around it, and its hand had never let go of the knife that still lay clenched inside of a fist.

Altair staggered and put an arm to the wound. He leaned against a wall with a complete and total look of 'oh my god, I've been stabbed.' He leaned his back to the wall and slid down, looking at his bloody hands. His vision was still going in and out of focus, but he continued staring at his callused hands.

He was now silently distraught. Part of him wanted to yell and cry out for help, another part wanted to stand up and run back to Malik. At this point, he would no doubt fling his arms around the man, but he was so far away at the bureau. He was far too weak to even walk ten paces, never mind climb a building and sprint. He was trapped and bleeding to death and there was nothing much that he could do, so he applied pressure to the wound and tried to cease the rapid bleeding.

Not much was working. Realizing that he was going to die, he started screaming for help of any sort. There was nothing left to do, what else could have been done if he wanted to live? Sitting would've done nothing. At least he'll have a chance by killing off a few vocal cords.

A minute passed and he already couldn't yell anymore. He quit and sunk down a little bit more in his miserable state as that last hope started to dwindle away.

He heard faint voices of humans and looked in their direction. He couldn't even focus anymore, but he could see a white robe with two arms signaling others to follow in a very quick and frantic manner. He let out a sigh and closed his eyes. He was going to pass out.

* * *

He could hear voices, but he wasn't quite sure who's they were. It was a fight just to open his eyes, but when he did, he could see a sunset-filled sky through a latticework that acted as a roof. He was laying down on something soft- pillows, perhaps? -and turned his head from side to side until he saw three figures standing about twenty paces away in an archway. He finally recognized that he was in the Assassin's Bureau.

He was relieved to think that he was safe; Malik was good with medicine, one could even call him a doctor. He must have helped him. He must have saved him, else he wouldn't have awakened.

He started to see things a little more clear once his eyes focused with the lights. He was definitely dazed, but he figured that he could manage on his own for now granted no one deserted him, and thankfully no one would. Malik may hate him but he wouldn't let him die.

Malik looked at Altair. God, what mess had he gotten into? And how was he still alive? Was he really that stubborn that he would say 'no' to death and push it away, or was he really just lucky? From what Yusef- God, just a mere novice who saved an assassin -had told him, he had been screaming for help. He couldn't imagine Altair screaming for anything, never mind for help. Was he really that desperate? He must have been. It was a last resort.

But now, just looking at him made him cringe. Not out of hate, but out of sheer pity. It looked as if he had taken a bath of blood while going through a meat grinder, because his robes had been tattered and torn and he was in the sorriest shape he had ever seen anyone ever be in.

He looked back at Yusef. The novice was on a training mission with his master, but of course, sometimes plans go awry and the unexpected happen. Yusef (now a temporary hero for finding Altair) was slightly shorter than he was, but despite him having to look up a few inches to meet Malik's gaze, his gigantic brown eyes looked at the bureau leader as if expecting him to say something.

Malik glanced at Yusef's master, whom had his eyes fixed at the bloody, barely-living body laying in a makeshift bed of pillows.

Malik walked over to Altair once he saw that he was awake and leaned down next to him. All of his hate for this one person subsided and he found himself grabbing hold of Altair's hand. "I…tried to make you as comfortable as I could," Malik said without looking at Altair. He probably couldn't bare even a glance.

Somewhat to his surprise, Altair managed to muster up his voice to say quietly, "You did a good job."

Malik couldn't keep himself from looking at Altair's eyes and moved his gaze to them. The assassin had no idea that three ribs were broken and that he was currently bleeding to death. Malik had done all he could; there was nothing more. He had giving him a medicinal concoction to kill the pain that he would have been feeling. It apparently worked; Altair said nothing of pain and showed no signs of it.

However, it agonized Malik to listen to Altair's wheezing breath, but he held onto his bloody hand and moved his thumb back and forth to stroke it slightly. "Do you feel any discomfort at all, brother?" Malik asked.

"No," Altair squeaked out. "I don't know what's going on."

Malik sighed and a few moments of silenced passed between them. He looked over at Yusef and his master, whom were looking back at him. "Just know that I've done everything I can," he said.

Altair had a puzzled look on his bloody face dirty with the red substance and dirt that had accumulated from the fight. "What do you mean?"

It took him a moment to understand. All that lost energy definitely jumbled his thoughts around, but the thought of dying was very clear and present. Speaking was still difficult, but he still said, "Am I really dying?"

Malik slightly nodded his head. It had gotten quiet for a moment until Altair decided to squeak out another sentence.

"I don't want to, though."

It was strange; death had never been something that he was afraid of. If he was, then he wouldn't have been able to be an assassin. He had been trained to think that if he died, it wouldn't matter much. Death was a distraction and an obstacle and would obscure one's vision. But laying down with the blood draining out of him had changed that thought and his mind, and he decided that he would like to live a little bit longer. He rolled onto his side to place his other hand on top of Malik's and stared at the wall.

"You'll be alright, my friend," Malik said. "I won't leave any brother of ours."

Maybe that's why everything was suddenly so comfortable. It couldn't have been the pillows; it must have been the conscious fact that someone was still there beside him and wouldn't let him die on his own. Psychologically, it helped. Maybe it was also just the fact that his life was literally draining itself out of him. He couldn't even feel it, the blood pooling around him and soaking the pillows.

He realized that Malik had been correct; his heart started beating slower and slower. It wasn't a beat-beat, beat-beat, but instead a beat…beat…beat….And he couldn't help but notice it.

He wanted to hang on, to survive. But he just couldn't.

It was just too damn quiet in the room. Perhaps the gravity of the situation also pulled down everyone's voice, but Malik decided to break the silence anyways. "It'll be alright. Just close your eyes and slip away. You're allowed to do that." When Malik looked at him, he saw two tears roll down the assassin's dirty face and clean off a small, narrow trail of blood. It wrenched at his heart and he had to turn his head away. He just couldn't watch him.

Malik felt Altair's grip tighten. The assassin's shallow breathing had turned erratic in those last throws of 'I want to live.' Malik personally called them 'death spasms,' and he's seen them far too often…him being a bureau leader/doctor and everything. Altair was still fighting to live and was going to fight until he died. What a spirit.

He finally loosened and his grip on Malik's hand and went limp.

Malik looked over at Altair again and couldn't believe that Altair- ALTAIR, Masyaf's best assassin, Masyaf's most skilled man -had just died clinging to his hand. And he knew he was dead, too. He knew that look that dead people had, with their slightly open eyes staring off in one direction. And that was what Altair had been reduced to. Just that, another human being, another corpse, another ended cycle of life.

Malik closed Altair's eyes and couldn't resist the tear that flowed down his face and the whimper that escaped his lips. He brought a hand up to his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose. His chest shook slightly and couldn't control the overwhelming urge to cry at least a little bit, but Yusef's master's hand that placed itself on his shoulder snapped himself out of it. The master whispered an 'I'm sorry' and walked away, dragging Yusef along with him into the other room to leave Malik there for a moment.

It had yet again become silent. He felt as if at any moment Altair might just take in a deep breath and blink his eyes open, but he never did. He was dead.

Dead, gone, deceased, kicked the bucket, turned over the stone, lifeless, departed, not among the living, whatever the hell one wishes to say. Truth was that he was just _killed_ by someone. Altair wasn't someone to be killed easily. He had never allowed himself to be killed. With that thought in mind, Malik just wanted to slap him. He wanted to slap him for allowing someone to stab him, for allowing himself to make the wrong step, for engaging the wrong person in the wrong fight, for whatever had gone wrong. He just wanted to slap him right across the face and get all of those feelings out, but he simply and utterly couldn't.

A couple minutes passed and the few tears that wanted to escape had dried and Malik was under control. He dared not to look at the corpse right beside him; he may have been a strong person, but one more look at Altair's helpless form might get the tears started again.

He stood up and walked into the adjacent room where Yusef and his master were seated at a table. Upon seeing him, both of them wordlessly stood.

"I will inform Al Mualim," Malik said. "We need a new man."

* * *

**Yeeeaah, so…he dies. Sort of. My sister is going to be disgruntled that I killed Altair _**

**BUUUUUT you'll see Altair again in the next chapter. After all, this is a series, who wants to read a series where the main character dies in the first chapter? :3**

**I know I wouldn't XD**


	2. Crimson Figure

**I hope I'm good at writing creepy horror stories :D**

* * *

Malik bent over the table and looked at the letter he received. Three days had passed and nothing new happened. His daily routine was still the same; wake up, tend to the plants that he creates medicines out of, check in with Masyaf, and get back to whatever he was doing the previous day.

It had become quiet to say the least. With the entire order knowing that Altair was deceased, everyone automatically took a vow of silence. From the other assassins coming and going through the bureau, Malik had learned that all speaking in the dining hall- which was notorious or being loud -was completely silent. No one would say a word other than prayers. It would pass, Malik knew, but it really did say something massive about the situation.

The sun was setting and the only source of light he now had was a candlelight, and blast it; candles aren't all that bright, no matter how many are lit. His eyes were tired anyway, with the feeling of sand gritting itself inside of them. He set down the quill and blew out the candle, then, in the dark, walked upstairs to retire for the night.

Malik slid underneath the covers of his bed and took in a long, deep sigh. He stared at the ceiling for a good five minutes before rolling onto his side.

A few minutes passed and he was half awake, half asleep. A creek at the door to his bedroom woke him up completely and he instinctively looked towards it. He was quiet, and all what he heard was silence. He shrugged it off, deeming it just his imagination.

The sound of a barefooted person running across the wooden floorboards roused up Malik again. He sat up straight and scanned the room, seeing nothing. Maybe one of the brothers had arrived at this hour, but no one ever went into his room. It was like walking into someone's house; you don't just open up the door and sit on the couch.

The sound of the feet came back again, this time running for the door. Malik panicked and lit a candle, grabbing the knife that laid next to it. He waited for a while, but when nothing else was heard, he began to ease down a bit.

He sighed and blew out the candle again, taking one last look at the door before laying down completely.

He heard someone take in a struggling breath, as if they were suffocating through something, and when he looked at the entrance to the room again, he saw a crimson-colored outline of Altair standing in the doorway, staring at him.

Malik closed his eyes tightly and opened them in the hopes that he was just hallucinating, but the figure was still there. It opened up its arms as if to embrace, but instead it made a choking, screeching noise and charged towards him as if he were a threat of some sort.

Malik bolted out of his bed and watched the crimson figure of Altair disappear right before he ran into the bed.

Malik was quick to light a candle again and ran downstairs into the lower part of the bureau. He had been in dangerous, scary situations before, but he had never felt his hairs stand on end as they were right now.

He hoped rather desperately that he was just seeing things, or maybe that he's just dreaming, that he'll wake up in his bed and say, "Hah, it was just a nightmare." He didn't want to think that this brief incident would mean that he was going crazy.

But he was positive that that wasn't a dream in the slightest bit.

* * *

**Woohoo, go short chapters :D The next one will be a bit longer and have more Altair in it.**


	3. Remembrance

**Soon I will start getting to the good parts of this story :)**

* * *

Yusef came around the corner and saw that the bureau was empty. "Master Malik?" He said and put his arms in the opposite sleeves, crossing them over his chest. "Are you here?"

He was startled when he heard Malik come sprinting down the stairs with a candlelight. The rafiq whipped around quickly and looked up the stairs to see if something was following him, but when he saw that there was nothing but darkness, he realized that Yusef was nearby.

"Master Malik?" Yusef said again, succeeding in getting his attention. He noticed Malik's frightened look subside when he saw that he wasn't alone. "Is everything alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

_And I think I have, novice._ "Yes, everything is alright," Malik lied. "I just…must have been dreaming something and I thought it was real." He looked over at the novice. "What are you doing up so late at night? And where is your master?"

"I was sleeping up on the roof until I heard something inside. I got worried."

Malik glanced away and then back at him. "Firstly, I advise you sleep inside the bureau. Anything could catch you out there, just like a mouse in a field full of soaring owls. Secondly, you did not answer my other question. Where is your master?"

"He is up on the roof as well. We figured it'd be rude of us to sleep…well…_there_," Yusef said and motioned to the yard where Altair bled out his life.

Malik sighed. "What exactly did you hear?"

"A scream, then a fumble."

A moment of silence passed. "Go back to bed," Malik said. "Everything is fine."

"Yes Master," Yusef replied and bowed slightly before going out of sight.

Malik almost cringed as each step he took on the stairs made a horrible creaking noise. He checked to make sure that no one was in his bedroom, and he was certain that he was the only one there. The only others here were Yusef and his master, and they were outside.

On the roof…of all places…

* * *

Malik awoke to the sunshine streaming in through the windows. The flood of light caused him to close his eyes again and cover them with his hand as he sat up straight and yawned, listening to his bed's frame squeak as he got up to move. The light was comforting from the midnight scare last night, so he gladly threw on his rafiq clothes and descended the stairs.

"Good morning to you Yusef," Malik said as he saw the novice. "Care to tell me where your master has gone off now?"

"His name is Kareem, and he is doing a mission Al Mualim sent him to do in the first place. He told me to remain here, but refused to tell me what he was doing."

That's strange, Malik thought. A master not telling his own student what he went off to do?

"Then rest here until he returns," Malik replied.

Malik looked at the map he had been working on and glanced at the quill standing in the inkpot. He thought about it for a while, the fact that it came from a bird, another living thing that was born and raised on the Earth, only to die in the end. He had gotten the quill from his favorite bird, too. He remembered Altair hating the avian. It was a parrot, imported from a far away land in the east, and could mimic many words and phrases. He remembered Altair complaining that the bird wouldn't stop singing and that he speaks nonsense, and even suggested that the bird was possessed by demons. Malik laughed at it back then, but now he realized that Altair really didn't know that the bird was just mimicking what others said.

Then again, Altair wouldn't have known. Birds weren't something that he really thought about, other than the feathers that are useful for writing and for tokens of proof that a target has been assassinated.

When that bird- Mary was her name -died, Malik remembered feeling as if he had lost a family member. He had that bird for a few years, ever since he graduated from being a novice and went on to being a bureau leader. He and that bird were so right for each other, so meant for each other. Then through an accident, the bird was killed.

That was the only time he had ever seen Altair give that look to him. Words couldn't describe his expression. He could have said thousands of things; "Why are you crying over a bird?" "It was a bird, Malik, it doesn't matter." "This is such a worthless thing to shed tears about." Instead, he just stood there while Malik had his tears rolling down his face, mourning the loss of a beloved friend.

That was the one moment he had seen Altair truly, deeply sorry. He could tell that he wanted to apologize for not liking the animal, he could tell that he wanted to say, "I'm sorry for your loss." And he did. Never before had Altair been 'soft,' as some might say. Maybe he can just sympathize with him.

Altair did, after all, loose someone he loved very dearly.

Her name was Adha, Malik recalled. Altair loved her more than anything else, and when she had been captured by Templars, Altair went racing after her. He abandoned the Brotherhood for a week, and when he returned, Malik knew that the news wasn't good.

He remembered everyone being culled into the courtyard of the fortress in Masyaf. Altair had been trying to writhe free of the two men restraining him, and he was as angry as angry could get. Malik's heart had stopped when he saw them strip Altair of his shirt and robes and forced him to keep his back turned to the crowd while he was down on his knees. Then their master had addressed the crowd, using Altair as an example of what would happen to those who disobeyed their orders. Then he produced a whip and did something that he would have never expected their master to do.

Five times it took until Altair started to let out whimpers. By the tenth, each whip caused him scream abruptly.

Malik didn't want to count. He had turned away and covered his ears, but when the screaming stopped, he had turned around and saw a bloodied Altair literally being dragged away. And out of all times, out of all faces in the crowd, he managed to have looked straight at his. His eyes were plainly saying 'help me,' and Malik was barred behind a cage of people and was drowning in a sea of voices. He couldn't reach a hand out to his comrade, couldn't even step up to say 'stop.'

But then who would have? Al Mualim is a powerful man. But he still could have negotiated that Altair was only chasing after what he loved, and failed. Failure should have been a good enough punishment.

The only love in his life had been that woman. After her death- Altair had told him personally that he was just an inch from saving her -he started to not care about anything, even himself. His self-mutilation consisted of cutting himself with his own knives and refusing to clean his infected wounds.

It was so hard, watching him just sit there flipping a knife over and over in his hands as he stared blankly at it. Malik had known that the moment he turned his back, Altair would hurt himself again. He had yelled at the assassin why he hurt himself so much, why he was mutilating himself. He wasn't expecting Altair to say, "Because it feels good." Malik took away any sharp objects, anything that he could have hurt himself with. He was so stubborn; throughout that time, he was slowly starving himself by refusing to eat. Maybe he was actually hungry and wanted to eat something, or maybe he was so entwined with sorrow over the loss of his Adha that he really couldn't eat anything. He had lost so much weight, and he had become just a hollow shell. Just a thin, hollow shell.

It took six months of practically quarantining the man to break him out of his habits. Nothing loved him and he loved nothing, and it clearly showed on his features. He had been through shock, too. Shock over what had happened, and shock that someone else he thought he loved had hurt him so deeply. Al Mualim had been like a father in a way, but the love was weak and unstable. Al Mualim was the one who showed- and said -to him that he did not love him, that there was nothing in this world for him but what he was born for; to kill.

Altair had become depressed. All what he did after the entire incident- Malik kept in mind that this assassin was a very strong person, and it took a lot to break him -was just lay in bed, dead to the world. Malik would sit with him for hours on end in the hopes that he could help him. Heck, even Kadar would come in.

When Malik asked him any questions, he would usually remain silent, but one time he said, "I want to die."

Something like that had sunken into Malik's heart. Here was this man, stronger than a pillar, someone who would never allow you to plow through him or push him, completely broken in turmoil and grief. It was the end of the world to him, after all. After that, he kept a very close eye on Altair. He knew that the assassin was now suicidal _and_ depressed, and he knew well enough that those two don't mix together very well. It's like electricity and water; you just don't put them together.

So many months had passed and Al Mualim didn't visit Altair once. Heck, no one but him and Kadar did. Everyone just assumed that they were his caretakers or something. They didn't understand Altair's state. They didn't understand what was going on with him. But through their time together, Malik figured out a lot of things about the assassin. When Altair finally started talking again, he was usually very quiet and didn't say much, but the things that he said told Malik and Kadar everything about himself.

_Malik look at the figure on the bed staring at the blade that he turned around over and over again in his hands and he immediately snatched it from him. "_Stop it_," he hissed. "Nothing good will become of you doing this to yourself. It's been about half a year and not once have you even gathered yourself enough to talk a walk outside in the fresh air."_

"_Why does it matter?" Altair said. "It doesn't matter how hurt I am. You saw all the others; no one did anything to help me while Al Mualim…" he refused to finished his sentence._

_Malik sat down with him on the bed. "All things fade with time, brother," he said. "Hurting yourself does not do anything."_

"_It makes me forget everything else."_

"_Altair, you are sick and I am helping you. _Please_, I beg of you, let this all just…go. Al Mualim lied to you; there are things in this life that are meant for you, and it is not killing. Half a year has gone by and you are not yourself."_

"_Of course I'm not. Nothing matters anymore. No one would care if I died. Only Adha would, but she's dead."_

"_I would care," Malik said. "So would my brother. Don't say such things. How dare you even think about coming into _my_ life only to walk away, because you don't just do that, do you understand?"_

"_Adha walked away."_

"_You had no control of that! And neither did she, Altair."_

"_We don't have control over anything. Not even our names. I don't even know what my real name is. Al Mualim gave me this…this…thing that's not a name."_

"_But we have control over some things, Altair."_

"_Like what?"_

"_We have control over ourselves, and I assure you that Adha would not want you mutilating yourself in the manner that you have been doing."_

_Altair had gone quiet and sunk back. They were both quiet for a moment until Altair unexpectedly threw his arms around Malik and brought him into a tight embrace. "Help me," he said as Malik instinctively mirrored the man's movements and hugged him back. "Please, help me."_

_"I am, my brother, and don't forget that either."_

It was only a week after that conversation did Altair begin to run and exercise again, and it was that conversation that made Altair realize that there is someone who cares about him. All what he needed was someone in his life, and Malik wasn't going to have that destroyed. He never, _ever_ wanted to see anything in such a sorry state that Altair had put himself into. Even to this day he still didn't understand why he would cut himself; how could it have possibly eased pain? The last time he remembered, flesh being split into two was a painful experience.

Why did that man have to be so complex? Then three years later, he just…dies. And in his own arms, too.

Malik snapped himself out his daze and focused on the map again. Wow…he got all of _that_ from a feather. What a world.

Several minutes passed and Malik realized that he could barely concentrate with the thought of Altair floating around his mind.

* * *

**Why do I take so much joy in torturing imaginary characters…?**

**Ah well, I love being weird :D Weirdness makes the world go 'round!**

**P.S. When you get cut, serotonin (a neurotransmitter chemical that constricts blood vessels where injuries are (like getting a scrap, cut, gash, etc.)) is released, so that's why some people who are depressed have a tendency to 'cut' themselves. I thought that I would apply it to Altair because in the middle ages, people had no idea what serotonin was and all what Altair knew was that it…well…made him feel a little better because he was clinically depressed.**

**But as we all know, self-mutilation is a bad, BAD THING PEOPLES DON'T DO IT, m'kay?**


	4. Invisible

**Woohoo :D I've been very inspired by Silent Hill lately :3**

* * *

It was night and with everything dark, it was hard to see what was inside of the bureau. Malik sat down on the steps and waited for an apparition of Altair to show, or anything that would seem out of place. He figured that since the figure he had last seen had glowed crimson, he'd be able to see any disturbances against the black background. He would wait until he got too sleepy, then he would give up and go to bed.

Nothing showed. Figures.

Malik stood and was about to turn around until he saw something light up near the wall that was connected to the adjacent room. Malik froze and saw Altair sitting down on the floor with his back to the wall, holding an arm to his wounded abdomen that was stabbed and pouring out blood. He had a visage of desperation and appeared to have been crying out for help, then disappeared before anything else happened.

_So it is true,_ Malik thought to himself. "You died, but you never left," he said in a quiet voice to no one. "Altair, if you are here, please show me some other sign that you're here. I just need to see if you and I can communicate with one another."

A few moments passed and nothing else happened. Maybe that was the only thing Malik would get from him?

"Altair, please. Show me that you are here."

Malik nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard a pot from the table be knocked off and crash onto the ground. There was a small yelp, and he saw that it was only the dog that was kept in the other rooms of the bureau, specifically in the back. The mutt was always there in the back where he could get fresh air from the windows, but no one ever opened the door unless if they were going to feed him or take him outside. Besides, he was a guard dog.

"Azeem?" Malik said. "What are you doing out here? Who let you out?" He bent down to the dog and could see that he had his tail between his legs. He started barking at the doorway and was retreating. "Altair?" Malik said and found himself taking a few steps back. He heard someone sprint up the stairs, which caused Azeem to go cowering behind a counter. Something came sprinting down again and a screeching, squealing noise was emitted.

Malik instinctively grabbed onto a knife and held it up as if to defend himself, but then he remembered that he wouldn't be able to hurt Altair anyways. "Listen," he began. "Altair, you need to leave. You're dead and are of no further use to anyone. Please, leave the bureau and go elsewhere. You don't belong here."

Azeem started barking again and he bolted past Malik and ran up the stairs. Malik decided that it was best if he followed the dog and did so promptly, closing the door behind himself once he was in his bedroom. Something was telling him that he didn't want to be down there at the moment, and he was pretty sure that Altair didn't want him there either.

* * *

The night was rather sleepless and then morning came, leaving the bureau leader rather tired. Malik decided that he could deal with it; it was just one night, anyway. It wouldn't do much harm.

Upon descending the stairs, he saw Yusef sitting down at a table with his arms crossed and a look of worry on his face.

"Yusef?" Malik said. "Your master hasn't come back yet?"

"No, he has been gone since yesterday."

Malik glanced at Azeem for a moment before saying, "And he did not tell you what he went off to do."

"I am beginning to get slightly worried, as I am sure that he wouldn't just go off onto a mission and not come back for extended periods of time."

Malik thought for a moment. "We will give him some more time to see if he returns."

"Master, if it is alright of me to ask…are you alright?"

"What do you mean?"

"I thought that I heard talking last night. And the voice was talking to Altair."

Malik was quiet for a moment. "Listen, Yusef. There is something that I must tell you, but you cannot tell it anyone else. That's an order."

"Yes, master."

"Altair may have died, but he did not leave the bureau."

Yusef gave him a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

"At night, I've been hearing footsteps and other noises, and twice I've seen Altair in here. He came up into my room a couple nights ago and ran after me before he disappeared, and last night I saw him sitting by the wall, holding the wound that killed him. He also let out my dog, Azeem."

Yusef stared at him. "Master, if you need some time away those plants of yours, please, by all means, I would be most gracious in caring for them for a few days."

"Yusef, I am serious. It is not the plants. Altair is here, as a ghost or something. I will prove it to you tonight, but you must be ready to stay awake late into the night. Again, do not tell anyone about this."

Yusef nodded his head and said, "If you wish so."

"I do."

Malik and Yusef had been sitting at the table for hours after the sun went down. Things were getting awkward; the novice was convinced that Malik was crazy, and Malik was convinced that Altair might not show up, which would strengthen Yusef's belief.

Yusef stood and said, "I am sorry master, but I am getting quite tired. Maybe another time."

Malik stood up. "Fine," he said. "Do as you wish, but I am saying with all honestly; I told you the truth."

"And I believe you, master, but I-" he didn't get to finish his sentence as the entire bureau shook as if an earthquake was happening. The room suddenly lit up and the color from the walls and the floor literally peeled itself off to expose a more rusty color covered with mold. The tiled floor became a horribly discolored thing that looked as if it hadn't been clean in eons, and an entire wall of the bureau fell and crumbled to the ground.

"What is happening?" Malik said and grabbed onto a knife. Yusef went closer to the rafiq with his eyes wide at the unexplainable transformation.

The rubble from the fallen wall liquidized and was absorbed into the ground and cleared a passageway for them to go through.

Malik took a few steps forward and noticed how the street that would have been behind the wall was just a narrow alleyway that went either left or right. When he stepped outside, he saw how it was raining and terribly dark. Without looking back at Yusef, he said, "Novice, go light a candle. And be quick." He looked left and right, but the darkness and the rain prevented him from seeing more than a few feet. However, he could see enough to know that the wall of the alleyway was made of stone and overgrown with vines.

Yusef came over to him and handed him the candle. Malik covered it with his hand to shield it from the rain and began to walk leftward.

"Master Malik," Yusef said. "I do believe that we should stay back here in the bureau. I don't know what's going on."

"Neither do I," Malik replied and continued to walk forward. The candlelight let him see the ground and he noticed how all sorts of junk was in the way, such as pieces of wood and trash.

They heard someone running from behind them and they quickly looked in the direction of the noise, and Altair came bolting past them.

"Hey, wait!" Malik said and chased after him, leaving Yusef no choice but to follow.

Altair turned right and Malik sped after him, but the assassin was always the faster man. Once he lost sight of him, he stopped in his tracks and realized that he had practically left Yusef behind.

"Malik, wait for me!" Yusef said and slowed down once he reached him. He caught his breath and said, "What were you chasing after?"

"You didn't see that?" Malik asked with a quizzical expression. "Altair just ran right past us."

"I did not see…" Yusef stopped mid-sentence and his eyes grew wide at something behind Malik.

"What? What are you looking at?" Malik said and turned around, and what he saw made his body straight and stiff. Someone had taken a body and mauled the corpse into a grotesque-looking fashion and nailed it up on a wall. The skin had been peeled off and the wet muscles were shiny, even in the darkness. Guts and flesh were strewn about in a messy fashion and the eyes were still wide open on the head.

The carcass started moving and the lidless eyes darted back and forth in a crazy fashion. The mutated fingers started to curl in and out as animalistic noises crept out of the decaying vocal cords.

Malik held his hand up to his mouth and took several steps back; there was no way anyone could have still been alive in that state, and yet this person apparently was.

Altair came racing past them again, but he also caught eye of the body on the wall and he paused momentarily to look at it. He didn't seem to notice- or even see -Malik and Yusef and he hurried off in a panic.

Yusef and Malik were very quiet for a few moments before they heard someone scream bloody murder. There was the sound of a metallic scraping noise coming from not too far away followed by a sound of a panicking person.

Altair looked at the creature before him. He had no weapons or anything to defend himself with, so his only option was to run. In this labyrinth of unfamiliar alleyways, he had gotten lost and had no clue where to go. Now he was cornered up against a wall and the frightening monster was closing in on him.

He turned around and faced the creature. Its legs were fused together, so its only option of movement was to crawl around the ground with it sharply-clawed hands. It had no face, save for a mouth with razor-sharp teeth and no lips, reaching literally ear-to-ear. And for something that had to crawl, it could move pretty darn quickly.

It curled itself into a ball before somehow managing to lunge at Altair. When he dodged, the assassin fled far away from it.

All he could think of was, "What's going on?" The last thing that he remembered was laying down in the bureau and falling asleep. When he had woken up, the stonework of the bureau was replaced by metal, and the doorframe into the room that Malik did his cartography in was just a jagged, rusted opening. At first he had thought that he was dreaming, that it was all just a nightmare. Only when a disturbingly disfigured human body arrive and attempt to kill him did he realize that he wasn't dreaming, and the pain he felt of the knife splitting open his arm was real enough.

He wanted to find Malik and return to the bureau, and he wanted to figure out what was going on. No one just wakes up and finds themselves in this…this…_dimension_ where everything is absolutely frightening.

Altair rammed himself into a door and broke the lock, fumbling at the doorknob to slip inside of the building. A few lights on the inside allowed to see his surroundings, and he promptly shut the door. His heart was racing and his breathing was erratic with fear as his eyes scanned the room for anything moving. When he saw that he was alone, he went quiet and sneaked his way forward, being careful not to touch anything.

He tried to remember what had happened before falling asleep, but he just simply couldn't think of it. He remembered Malik being there and remembered him being worried, but he couldn't think of why. Maybe something had happened to him? Maybe he got hurt?

Everything was so silent that it was uncomfortable. The pitter-patter of the rain outside brought in some noise, but it was just rain. Falling water. Nothing significant right now. What he really needed was some form of a weapon; even a stick would suffice.

But he couldn't find anything useful enough.

* * *

**Huzzah, I am going to have SO much writing this :D**

**I just love writing; it's so addicting :3**


	5. Letters

**I really don't think that I need to write an author's note but I feel weird if I don't 0.o**

**Oh wait! I know what to write! Toilets weren't invented until…in recent history…so Altair thinks that the bathrooms are very foreign and doesn't know what the items inside of them are, i.e. the sinks, toilets, etc.**

* * *

The world shook again and Malik and Yusef found themselves standing back in the center of the bureau, in the normal world, on the normal Earth, in the same mundane place. No rain, no monsters, just the bureau, and the pigeons on the ground pecking at the seed Malik sets out for them every other day.

Malik and Yusef looked at each other for a moment before breathing out sighs of relief. They knew that each other had multiple questions about what just happened, but really, what just _did_ happen? And why was Altair running away, and why couldn't he see them if they could see him?

"I think we have a problem on our hands," Yusef said.

"Was that enough to convince you?" Malik asked.

"Yes, but…what just…I mean to say, I-"

"Save your breath," Malik said. "We need to do something about this. When I saw Altair, he was scared and must have been chased by something. Perhaps we should go to a mosque, or a synagogue, or a church, just to see if there is something that we might be able to do. It is the only thing I can think of."

"So you're saying that we will be…exorcising Altair?"

"Perhaps. I do not know. We cannot have him in that state, and he cannot stay here forever. He must pass on elsewhere."

"But who are we to do such a thing? We should bring a rabbi or a priest in here physically and see what can be done."

"No; in doing that, we could compromise the Brotherhood," Malik reasoned and turned his back on Yusef. Silence filled the room again for a few moments. "But then again, this is something supernatural we are dealing with."

"Exactly. We don't know what we're up against, but we can't just stand around and do nothing. You saw that person nailed onto the wall, saw how he was still alive. You heard that scream, and you saw those dilapidated buildings. What if we are sent there again? Why were we sent there in the first place?"

"Action will be immediate, Yusef. As to why we had gone there- unintentionally, of course -I do not know. Maybe Altair was trying to tell us something. Maybe something else was trying to say something. Either way, one thing's for certain; Altair needs our help. In fact, _we_ are going to need help. If that happens again…well, I don't want to think of what made that person scream."

* * *

Altair quietly rummaged around the rubble inside of the dark building for anything that could be a weapon. He moved a few heavy bricks out of the way and found an axe laying carelessly on the ground. He tested the sharpened edge of it and figured that it was in good condition.

Great, now he had something to protect himself with, but the only problem was that the axe was heavier than his previous sword and was a bit more difficult to use. It would suffice for now, however.

Altair heard a moaning noise emitted from the bathroom a few steps away. He froze and turned in its direction. Was something else really here in this place?

Altair walked around the rubble and opened up the rotted, moldy door. The place had seen some seriously better days, to say the least. The walls and floors were splattered with blood and the metal walls were rusted and falling apart.

Altair was cautious in walking over to the stalls and opened the first with the butt of the axe. He saw just a bloody toilet; an object completely foreign to him. He decided to ponder about it later and walked to the next stall and opened it, but it was also empty. The third stall was locked.

"Is someone here?" Altair asked in the hopes of getting a response. No one answered, so he went down on the ground and looked underneath the doors of the stalls to see if anyone's feet were there. Instead, there was just no one. _No one's here, but I swear I heard a human voice. I just know it._

As he began to walk away, he heard the locked door unlock itself and it creaked open. Altair whipped around and he held up his axe in the anticipation of an attack. There was a hissing noise as an arm shot out across the floor, dragging an attached body behind it. Its eyes were sewn open to prevent them from closing and its mouth was sewn shut. Its bald head had discolored blood vessels and veins clearly showing through the skin and its feet were tied together. It thrust out an arm and pulled itself towards Altair, letting out horrific-sounding noises as he crawled towards him.

Once it was close enough, Altair swung the axe and nearly decapitated it. The figure went limp and it didn't move again.

"Crawler," whispered Altair. "I'm going to call your kind Crawlers." He kicked it with his foot and walked around it. He headed to the stall it came from and saw that that there was an opening in the wall that he could crawl through that lead into another room. He managed to squeeze through and surveyed the place before going any further. His current objective was to find something that he could use for a source of light, so he started searching the area.

A piece of paper laying on a desk stood out against everything else and Altair picked it up. The handwritting was barely legible, but he could read some of the words:

_My dearest love,_

_Today was the day Max was born. I cannot explain my excitement. Though the child is not yours, I do hope that when you return, you will share the very same joy that I have felt. Things are better now that my husband is gone. With his body in the river, no one will ever find him._

_I did as you asked. I stuck his eyes open so that he could see the last moments of his life (it is his natural right, after all), and I sewed his mouth shut so that he would be silent as nature took him. Though it makes my heart a bit sad, I remember that his sacrifice will benefit us all._

_I hope that my son will find you to be the father in his life._

_With all my heart,_

_Elisa Usa_

Altair paused for a moment. That creature that he just killed…was that this lady's late husband? The description fit it perfectly and he got an eerie feeling from the words. She had murdered her own husband to be with someone else.

He set the letter down and opened up the doors. There were just files so he quickly flipped through all of them, but one of the folders was large and bulging. He took out the item inside and saw that it was a short, black bar with circular glass at the end and what appeared to be mirrors on the inside. It was small and he could hold it in his hand, but what was it? A button was on the side and he pressed it. It clicked and light beamed out from one end.

It startled him at first, but it was giving him light. On the side of the 'bar,' he could read something that said '_Light-Giver Flashlight_.'

"A flashlight?" Altair said and pressed the button again. The light turned off and he messed around with it a bit. It was a good find, and he'd need it, that's for sure.

Out of the all the papers there, a map eventually came out of the piles. On the top, it said LAKESIDE. That must have been where he was…wherever he is.

He stuffed the map into his pocket and left the room.

He explored the rest of the building without any confrontations and found several notes along the way. One said, _They like light. Turn it off. They like light. They got him. They ripped him. He didn't listen. His light was on._

Another said, _Keep it off! Keep it off! They'll see you, so keep it off! Be quiet, for they'll hear you. Sneak around them. They'll never know._

_Stay away from the one with the spikes and the crow's wings. Once he catches you, he'll grab onto your hands and feet and stretch you like a noodle until you snap apart._

_Stay away from the water. Bad things are in there. Bad things are in the clouds, too._

_Get a knife __get a knife get a knife get a knife get a knife get a knife before she knifes you get a knife._

To say the least, the letters were disturbing. People were obviously here before him and they had encountered the creatures before. Altair, for the sake of being alive, turned his flashlight off and was careful not to stumble around the darkness.

The one with spikes and crow's wings…what kind of monster would that be? They all sounded pretty darn bad, but that one that sounded like the worst. Altair made a note to himself to steer way clear of any monsters if he can.

The last thing he wants is to be snapped in half.

* * *

**Yaaay now we're kind of getting to the part where Altair must survive :3**


	6. The Hotel Part I

**Thank you all for such the kind reviews! Really, I had no idea people would actually like it :D**

* * *

Altair exited the building and looked at the surroundings. It was night outside and he wanted to keep his flashlight off for fear of being seen by the horrific creatures, but he couldn't see much, especially since it was raining. Thankfully the rain was light and didn't turn the dark world into an opaque image.

Then Altair suddenly realized that he had no clue what to do. No hints or clues, no orders, nothing to tell him where to go or what he had to accomplish. He was on his own in an unfamiliar, frightening place. Maybe if he explored this town- Lakeside, it's called -he'd uncover something that he'd need to know. But this whole place was abandoned; not a single soul was around to be seen. Those letters though…someone must have written and left them, which means that someone must be here. But then again, those letters looked old can could be obsolete to him.

Altair looked at his map and tried to find where he was. He just came out J&R Electronics and Appliances and was heading down Sheerly Street towards Teresea River. A letter had warned him from going near water, so crossing it would probably do nothing. But maybe if he did cross it, he could leave this place. He still had no clue what was going on and wanted to go back to Malik or Masyaf more than anything that was familiar to him. Why was he even here in the first place, anyway?

Altair focused back on the map and heard the noise of running feet. He turned his head in their direction and saw the silhouette of a person darting away from him. "Hey, wait!" Altair said and dashed after the figure. It took a sharp turn around a corner and slammed the doors behind itself.

Altair skittered to a halt and looked at the sign posted above the entrance. It said, in large bold letters, LAKESIDE HOTEL. The assassin was hesitant upon entering but if it meant that he would find another human being, then he would gladly go inside of the building.

The interior was dusty and molded and, of course, dark. Chandeliers and planks of broken wood as well as furniture was strewn about the floor and the wallpaper- another thing unfamiliar to the assassin -was torn from the walls. It was also completely silent inside until he took his first few steps, for he discovered that he was conveniently stepping on broken glass.

The spacious main lobby had dozens of wooden tables and chairs decorated with old cloths that now obviously served no purpose other than to collect dust. The floor boards were broken and a few were sticking up out of their place, which reminded Altair to not step on them, for they would most definitely creak very loudly.

A counter that was previous used by workers laid almost completely barren save for an aged, yellow, water-stained piece of paper. Altair made his way towards it and tried to read it, but it was too dark. He grabbed the flashlight and turned it on.

The paper read: _Mary, it's hidden in 207. Raven's feathers are in there._

"Room 207," Altair said. "I think I need to go there." Altair looked up and quickly turned off the flashlight when he saw something move at the bottom of the stairs. He froze and heard the sound of cracking- possibly breaking -bones and a figure came slowly staggering towards him. Her legs were stiff and she convulsed as she neared him, and in her hands was a piece of wood with nails embedded on the end, almost as if it were a makeshift mace.

Altair grabbed a knife as the thing with a smashed-in face stiffly came closer. Somehow she made a ghastly screech at him and she rose the piece of wood. Before she struck him with it, Altair ducked and rammed himself into her legs to knock her on the ground. He took the knife and slit her throat just as her bloody hand shot up and gripped his arm with tremendous force.

Altair pried her hand off and clutched his arm. For something that didn't appear all that strong, her hand could have easily broken a child's arm. He'd be bruised, but it'd be fine.

So he needed to go to room 207, wherever that was, and collect raven feathers. He wondered why anything would want raven feathers, but he shook the idea from his mind and headed to the stairs. As he ascended them, the rotted wood creaked violently and quite literally sank with his weight applied on them. It was nerve-wracking; it seemed as if the entire building would just collapse all at once.

Once he reached the top of the stairs, he heard a loud crashing noise behind and he jumped, only to see that the stairway was now blocked with by wrought iron bars. He breathed in deeply for a moment and figured to himself that he was being watched by something, and he was most likely also trapped.

Altair turned around and grabbed onto his knife. Oh, how he wished he had his trustworthy hidden blade.

After crawling over a pile of debris to continue forward through the hallway, he turned his attention to the numbers on the doors. Room 106 seemed quite a ways away from 207.

Altair slowly his made his way past the rooms and saw nothing of interest. The entire floor seemed marked with only the hundreds, and after attempting to open up a few of the doors, the whole level also appeared to be locked. Altair sighed and decided to look for a stairwell onto the next floor, but a hole in the wall caught his eye.

It looked as if something small had rammed through it and made an opening large enough for him to fit through. After double-checking for any monsters, he got down on the ground and crawled through the hole that lead into the bathroom.

First of all, he honestly didn't want to know what was on the floor. Some sort of splattered, black gunk was mixed with other unknown liquids. Not only that, but the sink and abused toilet had a scent so horrific to them that Altair was given the urge to puke. Who could have possibly left anything in such a disgusting condition?

Upon looking away from the sink and toilet, something was written on the tiled wall above the bathtub. It was painted in red and said in large, bold letters, DOUBLE DARE YOU, DOUBLE DARE YOU. An arrow was pointing to the tub.

Altair looked into the seriously unclean item and saw nothing but the same black and red gook that covered most of it. Then he thought of the drain. Oh Allah, did he really have to reach in there?

Altair, despite being completely disgusted, closed his eyes and looked away as he reached into the drain to pull out anything inside. He gripped onto something solid and yanked it out. He pulled off the black hair that was messily knotted onto it and found himself retching onto the floor. He's fine with blood and gore, but something as gross as this? For some outlandish reason, it really did made his stomach flip.

He got a ring of keys and instinctively knew it to be important, so he placed it into a pocket and opened up the door that lead into the bedroom. For once, it wasn't locked, but he had to use his flashlight to see. He turned it on and explored the room a bit.

The mattress was covered in black mold and the bureau had years of neglect. The carpet was infested with colonies of bacterial organisms and the windows were so dirty that Altair couldn't see what was on the other side. The drawers held nothing inside and the damp walls were a haven for unknown molds and whatnot. Before he was going to be sick again, Altair promptly left and turned off the flashlight. When he stood up after crawling out of the opening, he saw another of the woman-monsters frozen right in front of him. His heart made a leap into his throat and he held his breath.

Oh god, she was _right _there. Altair slowly made his way around her and rose his knife. He grabbed onto her head and slit her throat just like the previous one and stabbed her in the back a few times to ensure that she was actually dead. He hated these things now.

He reached the end of the hallway and had two choices; either go left or right, and right had the stairs so he swiftly went that path. After squeezing through a collapsed doorway, he carefully made his way upwards and had to jump over a few gaps.

The second floor looked identical to the first and made getting around quite easier. Past the rooms he went, scanning their numbers. 203, 204, 205, 206, and at last, 207. He turned the knob but it was locked, so instead he fumbled around for the keys and tried them all until he got the correct one. The door creaked open and he scanned over the room again. He appeared to have been alone and he advanced forward towards the bed, where there was a pile of something black.

They were definitely long, sleek, jet-black raven feathers, but what raven had feathers that were two feet long? Altair picked one up and examined it, running his hand over the vanes of the feather. He gave them a quizzical expression but took the three anyway, sliding them underneath his tightly-fitted harness where they would stay put, no matter how much he moved.

He spotted a piece of paper on the bed and grabbed it, squinting his eyes to read it in the low level of light. It said, _Behind you!_

"Behind…me?" Altair said at the exact moment he felt the presence of something in the room. Though he was afraid, he turned around and saw a monster unlike the other types he had encountered.

He saw the image of a tall woman who had a dark cloth wrapped around her chest with a dirty, bloody skirt wrapped around her waist. Her shoulders that were attached to muscular arms had neatly-folded black wings and her head was completely concealed with by a piece of cloth tightly tied around it. She was also gagged with by a chain and had black hair spilling out from behind her head. She apparently had a few cuts on her but instead of blood that dripped out, it was embers that floated off into the air and died. A soft crimson light was emitted from her that illuminated the room.

Altair was stuck in his place again but realized that the raven-winged…_thing_…was behind bars that wouldn't permit her to pass through, so she was confined to the adjacent room. The only thing she could do was watch him.

The assassin stood there for a few minutes and waited for her to slice him, to yank him apart, to break through the bars, to do whatever it was she wanted to do, but instead the skinny, seven-foot tall being just remained where she was and faced his direction.

Altair bolted for the door and made a run for it, sprinting away from room 207 as fast as his feet would allow him to go. He didn't want to stick around for anything else inside of this building and ran down to the second level to see if the bars leading to the lobby were open finally. He almost panicked when he saw that they were still down, but he went to them anyways and tried to slip through the bars. It was no use, especially when he heard heavy footsteps behind himself.

Altair whipped around and gripped the bars behind himself tightly in anticipation of an attack of some sort. Instead of there being Raven, it was another monster, this one much more animal-like. Its attention had been caught by him and now Altair was completely trapped.

It resembled a human-sized dragon with black scales and wide hips that walked on all fours with a leather skirt covering the hind legs. The small front arms were fused together in a lump of black flesh and the undistinguishable head had some sort of pointed, metal helmet covering it. The wingless shoulders had tattered cloth wrapped around them and the tail of the beast had a nasty looking spade on the end. The gruesome, animalistic scream it made towards him made Altair want to sprint the hell away but there was nowhere to go, and the only weapon he had that he could possibly use to fight a fearsome creature like this would be the axe, but he wasn't even all that good at swinging a weapon that he's never had to use much before.

As it stalked towards him with its bloody claws clanking against the floor, Altair closed his eyes and prayed over and over again, "Please wake up, please wake up, please wake up."

The draconic creature suddenly turned around and reared up when Raven arrived with a heavy-looking chain that had a spikey axe-head tied to the end of it. Raven advanced on the dragon and rose her 'whip,' then cracked it down on the dragon. It ripped off the scales of the monster and it tried to flee in a panic, but it realized that it too was trapped while Raven was pummeling it to death with her weapon.

Altair backed away as the dragon got onto the ground and flipped onto her back to submit herself to Raven, but the executioner-looking woman grabbed her by the cloth covering her chest and lifted her in the air. She slammed her into the wall and grabbed onto the helmet, prying it open with her hands. The dragon's horrendous screaming ceased when Raven broke the helmet into two pieces and the dragon with no flesh on her face started to convulse on the ground. Raven grabbed onto the conjoined arms of the dragon and gripped the feet.

Altair covered his ears and looked away as he recalled what one of the letters had said about the one with crow's wings ripping its victims apart.

Sure enough, there was the sound of snapping bone and ripping flesh and Raven held one half in her left hand the other in her right hand.

Just as Raven turned to Altair, the assassin felt his eyes roll upwards and he passed out.

* * *

**Just because you faint does not mean you're a wimp :P**

**I don't know how to better describe the monsters D: Use your imagination! Imagination's good :D**

**So what do you think; is Raven good or bad?**


	7. The Hotel Part II

**Hello all! :D**

* * *

Altair's eyes fluttered opened and he took a few moments to collect himself. He lifted his head and saw that he was laying facedown on a cracked-tiled floor in a dining room, far away from room 207. He remembered his encounter with Raven and rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling and figure out what just happened. The chandeliers hanging overhead reminded him of the ones in the dining hall back at Masyaf. He never thought that he would actually miss the place.

Altair stiffly sat upright and groaned. His body was sore and his arm was aching where the monster had gripped him tightly before he met Raven. He tenderly touched the wound and realized that it was worse than he previously thought.

He stood up and kicked a bit of rubble out of his way. He made his way to the nearest door and opened it. Much to his relief and surprise, it lead outside, out of the hotel, but then he realized that it was only a courtyard. He sighed to himself and observed the dead gardens. Rhododendrons and hydrangeas lay barren next to dead apple trees that had black bark cracking and peeling off, slowly decaying the vegetation. The stone pathway was uneven and lead to the center square where there was a creepy statue of an angel with open arms. Altair got curious in it and went closer for a better look.

The gray statue of the angel had black tearstains underneath the eyes that ran down the cheeks. The hands of her open arms were clenched in fists and her clothes appeared to have been blowing violently in a strong breeze.

Altair cocked his head at it and looked at a plaque embedded at the foot of the statue. It read, "To those who lost their way in their lives and now rest in the peaceful sanctuary of paradise. May they have eternal peace."

Altair was startled when a foreign, loud siren screamed through the air. He looked around and saw the floors and walls crack simultaneously while the ground shook and the colors of everything present peeled off and evaporated into the air. The cloudy sky turned black while the siren ended and strange, unusual noises started to appear.

Altair backed up to the statue and thought to himself, _Damn, it's happening again!_ He tightly gripped his axe as light rain began to fall from the blackened sky. He felt something move behind him and a stony hand rested itself upon his shoulder. He looked behind himself and saw the statue as a living, moving creature.

Altair swung the axe at the statue and the axe head ricocheted off. The statue stepped forward and twitched each time it made a movement, and Altair was sent running for the inside of the hotel. He tried opening up the door but fleshy vines suddenly grew over it and prevented him from passing through. Allah, did he really have to fight a living statue?

The assassin turned around and rose the axe again. He tensed in anticipation of attack and looked for any weak points on his enemy.

As it got closer, it rose one long, slender arm and swiped it across where Altair was standing in an attempt to knock him over. The assassin dodged it and continued backing up. It did the same thing over and over again; a swipe, dodge, and swipe again. The repetitive movements probably meant that it couldn't do much else.

The statue rose the arm again and just as it attacked him again, Altair swung his axe and hit the oncoming appendage. Both rebounded off the other but the statue's arm cracked and a fleshy, crimson color shone through it. The tear-stained face of his opponent opened up a creepy mouth and screeched something so ear-piercing that Altair's hands instinctively covered his ears. Even in doing that, the scream penetrated through and before he even realized it, the arm of the statue had knocked him to the ground.

The air escaped his lungs in a loud _whoosh_ and he took a moment to gather himself. After realizing what had just happened, he saw the statue put both fists together and raise them into the air. He rolled out of the way as they came crashing down onto the floor with enough force to get them caught onto the metal gratings. The statue jerked backwards in an attempt to free its hands but they were caught pretty well in the ground.

Altair rose the axe and sent it soaring down on the statue's wrists. It made a muffled noise and seemed to panic once Altair started to relentlessly strike the hands over and over again. After three tries, there was a small explosion of a crimson mist as the stone hands were severed from the body and the statue fell backwards.

It convulsed on the ground before getting onto its knees and slammed its damaged, handless arms onto the ground in a furious and agonized manner. It stood and gave a blank, emotionless stare at Altair before stumbling towards him. It reached out one arm that was slowly disintegrating as a strange liquid poured itself out from the wounds. The entire statue then crumbled to the ground in a pile of dust.

Altair stared at the pile with wide eyes and recognized just how fast his heart was beating. Was that thing going to come back, or was it really dead?

Altair decided to run back to the door with the vines and gripped them tightly. He began to rip them off of the door, but they quickly reappeared. Again and again, he pulled them off and cut them with the axe, but he couldn't get rid of them.

He cursed to himself and looked around the courtyard. Nothing else was here except for the dead plants and the pile of rubble now the ground, but the only door leading into the hotel was blocked by regenerating vines.

He jogged over to the plaque that was previously at the foot of the ruined statue and knelt down to it. There must have been something he needed to find, so he reached underneath the plaque and lifted it off the ground. He began to dig underneath where it was and was satisfied when he felt a small, wooden box.

He pried it open and found a key on the inside with a small imprint of a person apparently on fire. It gave him a creepy chill but he put it in his pocket and went back to the door. Maybe the key could stop the vines from growing back?

He paused at the door when he heard an unfamiliar noise. It was a simple ba-dum…_screech_…ba-dum…_screech_. It was gradually getting louder, and as far as he could see, he was alone now. Unless if something was approaching the door, in which case the vines would be either protecting or trapping him.

Altair took several steps away and got out of the path of the door. It wouldn't be much of a surprise if something broke through.

The strange noise stopped suddenly and Altair held his breath, readying his weapon. Nothing happened for a good five seconds until an axe head attached on a chain came sailing through the doors, splintering them into several pieces and sending shrapnel all the way to the other end of the courtyard.

Lo and behold, there stood Raven, and she was dragging a bloodily dismembered body by the ankle in her left hand. She looked at Altair as she passed him and made a wailing noise before disappearing into the blackness of the gardens.

_What the hell was that about?_ Altair thought to himself, but was quick to realize that he could now enter the hotel again. He sprinted through the broken doorframe and didn't look back at the courtyard.

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**And that was horrific ending to the Hotel Part II XD gawd I am horrible at writing boss battles SOMEBODY HELP ME PLEASE! D:**

**I feel like I'm going to cameo Raven a lot o_O and I can't tell just how tempted I am to bring in Pyramid Head, for those of you who know Silent Hill. He's a king of all monsters, in my opinion, AND I LOVE HIM! 3**

**lulz i know i'm weird, loving some character with a freaky helmet and a skirt/dress/robe (?) made of human skin XD**

**ARGH i gotta keep this on track of Assassin's Creed!**


	8. Contemplation

**I WILL keep this topic on Assassin's Creed! After this chapter, I'll switch back to Malik and Yusef for a while :D Of course Altair is involved, too.**

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Altair leaned his back against the metal wall and sank to the ground. He needed to rest for a while after running so far for so long. His lungs were burning and his body was in desperate need of a break.

The loud noise of a generator blocked almost every other sound and Altair set his axe on his lap. This place was as hot as Hell now.

While he sat, he contemplated on what to do. He could sit there and wait this out until the world went back to normal- if that's what normal would be -or he could continue forward in a random direction in the hope of finding some way to end this.

The latter didn't seem like the best idea so Altair decided to stay where he was. He pulled his hood down too cool himself off a bit and stared down the hallway. Nothing was coming.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out that key he got in the courtyard and looked over the image that was on the small, flattened end. It was so eerily familiar…someone burning, possibly an execution at a stake. It sickened him, especially the way how people call themselves 'civilized' when they'll burn their own neighbors alive for some crazy idea that they're convinced is fact, and not belief. Burning someone to death…what an awful way to die. Altair thought to himself how horrible it would be if he were burned to death. He'd rather drown, and his strange fear of water really said something about that. At least he'd pass out in water first. Fire was a whole other thing; he had heard survivors of fire back in Masyaf talk about how their skin had burned and flaked off and how their muscles were roasted. They spoke of the sheer agony that fire gave them, spoke of how it felt to be cooked alive. It was awful.

Altair put away the key and took in a deep breath. If fire was the worst way to die, what was the second? Freezing to death? Plummeting to your death? Starvation? Dehydration? A broken bone? Disease? He chuckled to himself when he realized just how ridiculous this was. Pondering on death. Death was death in the end, and if he didn't survive, then…well…that would just be too bad. The only option that he had was to try to survive as long as possible, after all. Hopefully this would all end and he could go back to Malik.

The thought of Malik gave him a bit of relief. He was happy that Malik got angry at him. He was happy that Malik hated him. He was glad that Malik would still tend to his wounds despite the hatred, despite all the yelling. Altair still couldn't remember what had happened to him after falling asleep, but he remembered Malik being there for him and remembered him being sad about something.

If he ever saw him again, the first he'd do is wrap his arms around the bureau leader and apologize for the death of his brother and the loss of his arm. Then he'd go on about how much he wants Malik to his comrade, and to be his friend, and to be someone that he could actually look forward to seeing. Altair originally thought that he could look forward to seeing and speaking with Al Mualim, but the old man has long since slipped from his list of people that he cares about.

Al Mualim had been like a father in some ways, but the love was weak and unstable. He thought that he loved him, but he was terribly wrong. The man only liked Altair for his skill, for his talent as an assassin. Sure, he got to speak to Al Mualim in private manners and got to have separate, personal conversations with him, but Altair was constantly reminded that this old man was not his father and did not care about who his apprentice was. He only cared about what Altair became.

Then there was Malik. He got to grow up with him and got to know him personally, but any love they shared for one another was shattered by the mistake Altair made. His arrogance cost him everything, which to say, wasn't much to begin with. But it was still something precious that he lost and would have to work very hard to get back. Even still, there was no guarantee that Malik would absolve him and give him the much-needed companionship.

For Altair, there was just simply nothing left but his own life that he might now loose, too. He probably didn't even have a freaking soul, for crying out loud, and if he did, then he knew that he most certainly was not going to go to where Adha went. There was no possible way that he was going to paradise. For him, it was all a lie. Everything that Al Mualim said about them doing Allah's work and serving the light by being in the dark was probably just all a lie. There's no way he'd go to Heaven. Hell was waiting for him, and he knew it.

He couldn't be salvaged by anything and his sins wouldn't be forgiven. Maybe it would have been better if he did kill himself after Adha's death. He remembered Malik being there to make sure that he didn't, but he had a knife. He could have just prevented all this from happening in the first place. Malik would still have his brother and his arm, and all of his heartache would have ended.

But alas, that would have never happened. He wondered if any of this would have been stopped.

Altair stared back up at the ceiling and felt sadness beginning to well up in his chest. He missed Malik and he missed Malik's brother. Kadar didn't deserve to die. He could have lived and could have had a family of his own and would have had the perfect brother who would have helped him.

Altair stood up and dragged his axe behind himself. Maybe he should just forget about all of the heartache for the time being and focus on surviving in this hell.

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**Sorry that took so long ^^; Don't know why I took a break from it o.O Must have just been my preference of computers, because I prefer the laptop that I use instead of the PC that I write this story on XD**


	9. Exorcism

**Yeesh, three months went by before I updated this O_o Sorry about that, guys! Plus FanFiction was giving me a problem because it wouldn't let me upload my chapters, so...it's really late XD**

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Malik looked up at Yusef, then to the priest that wore white robes and held many candles that gave off strange scents. Malik and Yusef were to stand by and let the priest do whatever it was that he needed to do. They had no clue how an exorcism worked, but throughout the entire time that the priest was there, nothing seemed to have changed. Worse yet, there was an eerie feeling Malik received whenever he went into the Bureau's bathing room.

Altair had always hated water. He had hydrophobia, as a matter of fact. Malik never really understood it, but no matter how hard he tried, he could never manage to get him in a bath. He always took buckets of water and washed himself outside of the bath unless if the water was so shallow that it was up to his ankles, which, for a bath, was insignificant. Anything higher than his ankles would stress him out. Anything higher than his shins meant that he wouldn't even dare get close to it. His intense fear of water had even interrupted training during his novice years.

Malik had never gotten such a strange feeling upon entering any room. He wondered why it happened. Perhaps it was lingering emotions from Altair? But, after a few days of getting a horrible feeling every time he entered the bathing room, he noticed that he started to get it in the basement too. That was a real problem because all of their food and special supplies were in the basement. Malik no longer dared to go into the subbasement. He remembered Al Mualim becoming angry at Altair when he was fourteen and punished him by locking him in a subbasement back at Masyaf. Malik remembered Altair being freed from there only a couple hours later after Al Mualim decided that his punishment was too harsh. When Altair was released, he was so frightened that he could barely walk.

It had nothing to do with weakness. He had been forced into a dark, dank place that was literally a basement's basement. Apparently Altair had said something to Al Mualim that angered him, and after that, he only spoke when it was necessary. He never said anything unless he was spoken to and he always kept his mouth closed because of what Al Mualim had done to him.

Trapping him in a basement's basement alone, in the dark, and then leaving, despite Altair's pleas to be released and despite his fears and despite the fact that he beat his hands against the walls until he was bloody…for Al Mualim to have done that as purely cruel, unnecessary, and evil.

It took half the day for the priest to finish the exorcism and after he left, Malik headed to the bathing room. He still had the bad feeling. Malik decided to brush it off and figured that it was only his imagination. Shaking his head, he turned around and twisted the doorknob to leave. For some reason, the door wouldn't open. He tried to open it again- this time with more force -but to no avail.

"What?" Malik said. "What is going on? Yusef! Open this door please," he said. "It's jammed."

When he got no answer, he said, "Yusef, I do not find this humorous. Open the door at once."

He turned around when he heard something odd. He saw something crawling out of the mirror. It was black, almost as if it had been charred, and two hands reached up from the piece of reflective glass. A head came next and all what Malik could see was a red mouth.

Malik leaned back against the door and knocked on it frantically. "Yusef! Open the door! Yusef!"

Still, there was no answer. Then something started to crawl out of the baths. They were bloody vines that snaked out like worms and started to spread across the floor. The colors of the floor and the walls disintegrated and were replaced with blood spatters and rust. Dark-red blood started to pour down the walls and stained them, giving the room and sickening, metallic scent.

Malik watched the bloodied vines spread to the walls, where they crawled up and started to dot everything in blackness. The baths began to overflow with blood and Malik closed his eyes, repeating to himself that it was a dream even though he was convinced it wasn't. Everything became black and quiet.

Malik was there for the longest time until he decided to open his eyes and saw just how dark everything was. There was still some blackened figure trying to crawl out of the mirror, which was giving off a gray and gloomy glow. When Malik took a step forward, the floor was squishy and spurted out some unknown liquid. Malik decided to stay still.

"Can't save him…" something said.

Malik deduced that it was struggling figure in the mirror. "Altair?" he asked.

"Can't rescue him. He's drowning in his own blood."

There was a flash of red light and everything was suddenly back to normal. The floors and the walls were untouched by rust and blood and everything was clean once again. The thing in the mirror was gone.

The door- which still had Malik leaning against it -was opened by Yusef and the Bureau leader nearly toppled backwards before he managed to catch him.

"Is everything alright, my friend?" Yusef asked.

Malik shook his head. "The priest didn't do anything. There was just a…a…_haunting_, I believe it would be. There were these…these vines and blood and there was something in the mirror and it spoke to me and…" Malik stopped talking and calmed himself. "Altair is still here. The exorcism did not work."

Yusef shrugged his shoulders. "Then what are we going to do?"

"I don't know, but I have a feeling that only you and I can free him. We now know that a priest cannot do anything about this."

"But what exactly is _trapping_ him, master?"

"I…I don't know. I'm pretty sure that he's trapped in Purgatory, though. I really do not know. It could be something completely different, but I just don't know. Only you and I can deal with this. Altair needs us in order to pass on."

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**Otherworldly things are slowly going to be leaking into Malik's world.**

**Wow, three months passed and I give you guys the world's shortest and uneventful chapter ever known to mankind XD Okay, it may not be entirely 'uneventful' but I really need to work on it a little more.**


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